


Somebody To Love

by NeverwinterThistle



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Dates are really hard work, F/F, Karaoke, Threatening martinis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverwinterThistle/pseuds/NeverwinterThistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pull my hair and tell me I'm pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody To Love

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to Queen: I'm very sorry I used one of your best songs for really rubbish fanfic. 
> 
> Also, warning for a car crash. It's not a big part, but it's in there, so exercise discretion.

"-but we noticed this guy with a rhinestone Z on his back, and Pierce is all 'get the fuck outta here', and I'm all, 'I have an idea!', and that's how we ended up riding out of a BDSM club in a human pony cart with Morningstar goons in hot pursuit. You know, it sounds so much less believable when I say it. Ask Pierce, he knows."

 

Or maybe don't ask Pierce. Pierce is the dumbass who figured a hole like the Broken Shillelagh might make a sweet place for drinks after a day of crime and domination, and now they're stuck with it. Shitty lights that only work half the time, coupla worn pool tables, smell of cheap beer and sweat. Classy place.

 

"That...sounds like quite the escapade." On the stool next to her, Asha accepts her Vodka martini from the bartender with a gracious nod. He scowls at her around the ice pack pressed to one of his eyes. Shitty sports bar or not, Asha doesn't take kindly to "lady, you want one of those, you can go somewhere else". This- this is why they should be friends.

 

"It really was. Zimos was cool about it too, he didn't hold a grudge about the pony jokes. He sends me strippers every Christmas. Or, he _did_. Shit. Don't suppose there's any chance Zinyak abducted him."

 

"I doubt an ageing pimp was high on his list of desirables."

 

"I liked the old man. Really knew how to treat a lady and lemme tell you, his hospitality was _out of this world_."

 

"I think I can imagine," Asha says wryly. She toys with her olive; counting the ways she could kill someone with it, probably. Everything Asha touches suddenly becomes really worrying, really fast. She could show up in a Santa suit and start handing out hamsters and they'd end up being deadly poisonous or something. They work out together when the whole 'strapped into a machine for hours' thing starts to make them both twitchy, and the lady is like some demon out of a fucking nightmare. Shit, her idea of _fun_ is simulations of stuff she does in her _job_. Asha Odekar probably wrestles tigers in her sleep, until they all roll over and beg for mercy and belly rubs.

 

She was going somewhere with that. Time for another beer to help clear her thoughts. Beer number- something. Counting is hard. Waving to the bartender is easier, as is ignoring Asha's pointed glare. Girl needs to loosen up a little. She treats her bar stool like a throne, sitting straight-backed in that amazing purple outfit she pulled out of _nowhere_ after they beat the crap out of Genki. Purple and sparkly; that sums the Saints up nicely, and Asha fits right in. She's actually gets along with everyone. Almost.

"You don't...really think I poison everything I touch, right? And just so you know, I'd _totally_ care if you died, so that other thing was fucking bull... bullshit. It was a _lie_. 'Cause I'd definitely go all Terminator on someone who killed you, even if it was me."

 

Asha reaches over to pat her shoulder gently, and move the bottle of beer away from her elbow. "I'm sure it would be _quite_ the thing to witness."

 

"Yeah. It'd be like- when Evil Me killed Matt in front of us. You. It'd be like that. I'm really sorry, you know, that was a really shitty thing for me to do. I mean, I don't get what you see in him-" she takes a long swig of her beer to shut herself up. Stuff like that is dangerous. Thin Ice. And Asha still has that olive on a stick; she twirls it absently, _threateningly_ , and it's probably time to exercise some Presidential discretion and keep her fucking mouth shut.

 

"You missed the point entirely, I see," Asha says. She lifts the toothpick and waves her olive to underscore her point. It's a bit like watching someone wave a loaded gun around. "I am Matt's _mentor_. Until such a time as he can take care of himself, it's my duty to see that he doesn't end up kidnapped by some moustachioed madwoman and shot on a nefarious whim. His death was a metaphor for my fear of failing those I have a duty to protect."

 

She keeps her eyes carefully trained on the olive. "Right. Yeah. I knew that. I knew...that thing."

 

"Boss...You're completely sloshed, aren't you?" The olive gets dropped back into Asha's martini, and she breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

 

"Uh- no? I'm not shl- drunk. Why would you say that?"

 

"I can't believe this is what my life has come to. Sitting in some god-awful simulated pub while simulated men eye my simulated arse and _you_ proceed to drink yourself into incoherency. I never signed up for this. Why _me_?"

 

She shrugs and puts her beer back down carefully. "Sure beats dancing."

 

"I've noticed you say that often; mostly when you find yourself in a difficult situation you could have avoided with a bare minimum of forward planning."

 

"S'true though."

 

Asha spins on her seat so she can scowl head-on; their knees knock together, but apparently they're just going to ignore that. "You've never turned tricks for a living. You have too much... I don't know. Anger, I suppose. Your clients wouldn't make it two steps before you throttled them with their own belts and stole their wallets." The scowl gives way to a reluctant smile at the image she conjures.

 

"Heh, yeah. An' I don't have the body for it anyway. Hips too wide, tits too small, you know how it goes."

 

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. You have more...useful qualities."

 

"Oh yeah?" She raises her eyebrows. Asha's as bad as Angel for being totally incapable of giving out compliments. Maybe that's a sign she should avoid bad people with names that start with 'A'.

 

Asha just shrugs. "I admire your limitless loyalty. If you would just channel it towards something more constructive than a gang of barely controlled lunatics-"

 

"Hey! That's...that's my crew you're talking about." She reaches for her drink and finds it gone. But it was right there, she was super careful about putting it down and everything. Did Pierce take it when she wasn't looking? Fucking Pierce. Stealing people's drunks. _Fuck_.

 

"That doesn't mean they aren't lunatics. And to be quite honest with you, you're the worst of them. That stunt you pulled earlier, when you _abandoned_ me without warning to chase one of those blasted golden balls around-"

 

"I _wanted_ it. I wanted...the sparkly."

 

"And you can stop looking for your drink, I tossed it off the bar when you weren't looking. The fact that you completely failed to notice says that you don't need another."

 

_She did what now?_ "You're a fucking disappointment. We were going to be _friends_ , Asha! I helped you kill Evil Clone Me, and then we failed at protecting Timmy- Tammy Tollerthing, but it was okay because Professor Genki made us suck. Or...not suck. Ew."

 

"You have a truly terrifying mind, has anyone ever told you?"

 

"Does...does that mean you don't like me? I _like_ you, Asha. I like you a _lot_." She drags the last word out just in case it's not clear that she means it, she's not bullshitting, she truly madly deeply-

"Oh hey! You know what we should do? We should go driving. Turn the radio up, sing along to all the clash- the class- the good music. We should do that now."

The bar stool wobbled as she slides off it, and Asha has to grab her arm to keep her upright.

 

"Can't you sit still for an _hour_ without having to go and do something dangerous and potentially very destructive? You aren't driving anywhere!"

 

She digs around in a pocket and produces a set of car keys hanging from the usual fleur de Saints keyring. " _You_ drive then, and, and I'll pick the radio station. That's how it works. Oh my god, this is going to be so much fun!"

 

"Of all the women on the ship, I had to...fixate on this one. _Why_ couldn't it have been Shaundi?" Asha mutters as they stagger out to the car. Or...something like that, it's a little hard to focus on more than one thing, and walking kind of straight is a priority. The ground keeps moving; she stomps on it to make it stay still, but all that happens is Asha yells at her a bit before shoving her into their waiting Temptress.

 

It's purple, with an open top and nice leather upholstery. She amuses herself with stroking her seat while Asha gets the car started. It's so good to have nice things. "I love being me," she says. Asha just makes a weird growly noise and accelerates unnecessarily fast.

"Just pick a damn station before I drive us directly back to the spaceship."

 

"Okay, okay! Whoah, so many buttons."

She fiddles with them while Asha stares straight ahead at the road and...yeah, she's definitely grinding her teeth. Shouldn't do that, it makes you tense. One of her psychiatrists gave her a list of coping mechanisms, it's a shame she never actually read it. Asha might have appreciated a few tips.

 

Something familiar starts playing, and she lets out a whoop because it's _perfect_. "Holy shit _this is my jam!_ Asha! Asha do this with me, I know you know the words." She's gotta know Queen, everyone knows Queen, even if they do have a giant stick up their asses.

 

"For heaven's sake, I'm not Pierce!"

 

"Don't ruin the moment, sweetie, let's do this together. Just...pretend you actually like me, okay? It'll be _awesome_."

 

"The things you classify as 'awesome' are generally illegal in most parts of the Western world!"

 

"Here we go, here it comes... _Each mornin' I get up, I die a little. Can't barely stand on my feet-_ come on Asha- _take a look in the mirror and_ whoah there asshole, you mind looking before you step out onto the road? Run him over, he needs a goddamn lesson in public decency."

 

"I am _not_ mowing down pedestrians-"

 

"Oh my god I love this bit, _somebody, somebody..."_

Asha actually throws a hand up in resignation. "Oh for- fine! _Can anybody find me..."_

_"Somebody to loooooooooove!"_ And they're doing so great, they sound awesome, like a couple of pros. They're bonding; she lifts her arms and waves at the sky in case Zinyak is watching, so he can see how totally _not_ dispirited they are by the whole 'earth blown up' thing.

" _I work hard, every day of my life, I work till I ache in my bones_ \- mind the truck!"

" _Shit_!"

 

They mind the truck just fine, but a tree appears out of nowhere (literally. Zinyak really is that much of an asshole) and Asha isn't quick enough to avoid a head-on collision. Next second they're flying; she's briefly aware of a wide expanse of sky and thinks, _Look at all those stars, wow_ , and then there's a whole lot of ground right up in her face. _Fucking ow._

 

They could really stand to make this simulated long grass a bit softer. She's not asking for a mattress, just something to keep her from breaking half the bones in her body next time.

 

Off to the side, what used to be a shiny purple Temptress starts smoking faintly. The radio gives a soft cough and dies on _somebody...somebody..._

"Asha," she giggles, hiccupping slightly as bubbles of blood burst open on her tongue. "Asha I made you sing! We did Freddie Mercury together, that means we're buddies now!"

 

"I think both my arms might be broken," Asha says from somewhere over to the left. She doesn't sound pissed or anything, just a bit dazed.

 

"We're going to be so _cool_ together. We can trade outfits in simulation, and I'll let you fire my Dubstep Gun at Zin! BFFs, Asha, I swear."

 

"I have no words for how much a despise you right now."

 

"You don't mean that." Crickets chirping in the long grass, and she rolls herself painfully onto her stomach. Left hand, right hand, dig fingers into the dirt; she starts the slow process of dragging herself through the grass in Asha's direction. Must look like something out of a zombie flick, with the way her legs keep twitching as bones set themselves back into place and the snail-trail of blood she leaves behind her. _Awesome_. "Asha? You don't mean that right? Come on, that whole evil twin thing was just simulation, you know I'm as harmless as a kitten in the real world! A kitten with guns. And those black leather boots with the heels, I can't believe the Zin vaporised those. Asha?"

 

Whatever internal organs sustained damage in the crash seem to be healing up; the copper-tang in her mouth fades away, and now all she has left is disappointment and stale beer. They were getting along so well, like they might actually have something in common. She'd been about to ask if Asha would mind having her hair braided for her some day; it's so _shiny_ and soft-looking.

 

Up ahead, someone starts singing quietly.

" _Find, me, somebody to love...find, me, somebody to love... find, me, somebody to love..._ " And there she is, lying on her back with her hands folded behind her head. Rolling her eyes in exasperation and singing their song.

 

" _Can anybody find me..._ " she crashes at Asha's side, inching forward far enough to lay her head gingerly on Asha's stomach. A blood-smeared hand comes to rest in her hair, massaging her scalp. "I don't think I can sing high enough for a proper finale," Asha says.

 

"See, that's what everybody says, but only because they've never tried it."

 

"Matt could probably sing that high."

 

"Fuck that, it's on, we are _not_ letting Matt Miller be better at Queen than us. We can do this, Asha, we can fucking blow this out of the water! _Can anybody find me...somebody tooooooooo..._ " and she throws her head back and howls like a lone wolf, until Asha joins in and it feels more like company.

 

" _Looooooooove_!" Asha does the last bit properly, really puts her heart into it, and then the Boss blows a raspberry on her bare stomach and she dissolves into giggles. Scary giggles, of course. MI6 giggles with black shades and a dozen concealed weapons. The best kind around.

 

"I'm sorry you never got to finish your drink," she says when she's sure Asha won't snap her neck for ruining the song. "I made you leave your olive behind."

 

"Hm? Oh, I'm not actually all that fond of the things. Or martinis in general. It's just-" Asha hesitates, then sighs. "Look, I have a certain image to maintain. It's _expected_. You go to a function with a V.I.P, you order a martini to make them believe you're in control of the situation. Strange but true."

 

"And you totally want to be James Bond. Don't fucking lie," she giggles as Asha shoves her head impatiently. "I bet you have _all_ the movies. I bet you introduce yourself as 'Odekar. Asha Odekar.' Oh my _god_ , I bet it broke your heart when you found out MI6 doesn't actually give its agents Aston Martins." The laughter is threatening to turn into hiccups, so she tilts her head and blows another raspberry on Asha's bellybutton.

 

"What do I have to do to make you stop that?"

 

One more for good luck. "Uh...pull my hair and tell me I'm pretty?"

 

"You're a psychopath," Asha says, grabbing for a handful of short red hair and tugging. "But I concede that you are also very pretty. There. Are you satisfied?"

 

"Yeah." Asha's belly is warm against her cheek; she bats her eyelashes to see if it'll tickle, but Asha doesn't move a muscle. "You have really nice eyes."

 

"You've had too much to drink. Simulated alcohol or not, it's unwise to overindulge when we might be attacked at any moment by Zin troops. _You_ probably can't shoot straight, and I could only protect you for so long before they overwhelmed me with sheer strength of numbers."

 

"We could sing for them until they left."

 

Asha snorts with laughter. "Do you know, that might actually work."

 

"Your eyes are great." The kind of eyes you find in shitty romance novels. Big and green, and when she looks at you it feels like she doesn't see anyone else. Though it's mostly because she's checking you over for concealed weapons before she lets you anywhere near her.

 

"So you've said."

 

The thing about being President is, it comes with a whole lot of small print, restrictions, rules and diplomats she's not allowed to attack. The love of the American people is _awesome_ as far as power trips go, but that's never been enough. Stilwater got old, fast, and Steelport went the same way after a while. She likes penthouse apartments that look out over and beyond the confines of city streets and skyscrapers; the White House was just one more cage. It's always the same. Eventually she gets itchy feet, and no amount of Italian leather boots with concealed flick knives will be enough to keep her happy when the travel bug bites.

 

Asha can talk about duty all day long, but her eyes scream _adventure_ and she can't seem to shut them up. That's a familiar feeling. She needs escape, a new city, a new country, a new world. Asha's big green eyes give her butterflies and a rush of _sweet_ adrenaline, and then more fluttery, happy butterflies-

Wait, no. Those aren't happy butterflies.

 

"I love you, Asha, " she mumbles. "I think I'm gonna throw up on you now."

 

And just like that, their first date is over.


End file.
